


Fading at the edges

by liars_dance



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-09
Updated: 2014-01-09
Packaged: 2018-01-08 02:48:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1127460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liars_dance/pseuds/liars_dance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sean receives an unexpected visit from an old friend. (Orginally posted on LJ in March 2011).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fading at the edges

"You said I should come if I ever needed... if I needed - well, you know? You said I could come any time..."

Sean nods, dry mouthed as he stares at Viggo. "Yes – I did," he whispers, remembering the day he said those words all that time ago, though in truth he'd never really believed that Viggo would actually come to him. Not Viggo Mortensen – not the man who had everything and needed nothing; not the man with all those talents, all those languages, all those cheekbones... But now here he was on Sean's doorstep, pale and thin, tired and dishevelled – a combination that not many men could make attractive... "And I meant it. You look knackered, Viggo. Come inside – before you fall down."

"Both flights were delayed – I feel like I've been travelling for days," Viggo whispers, stepping over the threshold and setting his battered trolley case and rucksack on the floor in the hall. "Guess I smell like it too," he adds with a wry smile as he rubs his fingertips over his beard.

"Oh, I dunno – you smell okay to me," Sean replies with a grin, then pauses and looks at the man who had caused him more sleepless nights than he cared to remember. No doubt he'd learn in time what it was that had brought Viggo here, but right now more basic comfort needs were the priority. "But you've looked better, I must admit. Leave your stuff there and come and have a drink. What would you like, Viggo? Tea or coffee? Or something cold, maybe?" Sean moves off down the hall, glancing at Viggo over his shoulder, but his unexpected visitor hasn't moved from behind the front door. "Viggo? What's the matter?"

"You always used to call me Vig," Viggo murmurs. "I liked the way it sounded."

Sean swallows; he'd liked saying it too. In fact there were a lot of things he'd liked saying to Viggo – and a lot of things he'd liked _doing_ to Viggo... And looking at him now with his hair long and unkempt and wearing Aragorn's beard brings all those memories back. "Yeah – I did," he replies. "But that was a long time ago."

Viggo just stares for a moment, then lowers his gaze with a sigh. "Yeah, Sean – I guess it was. And some tea would be great." 

Sean nods but as he watches Viggo push his hair back and fix on a tired smile he suddenly feels like he's missed an opportunity to say more. "C'mon," he urges. "Come through to the kitchen; it's warmer in there."

\-- [*]-- 

And warmer it was but it only took a few minutes in the kitchen for Sean to work out that what Viggo needed wasn't caffeine or alcohol in any form, but sleep. So Sean had picked up Viggo's luggage and led him upstairs to the one guest bedroom he kept made up.

"There's a bathroom through here," Sean says unnecessarily as he opens the bathroom door. "There are plenty of towels in the cupboard if you want a shower before you turn in."

Viggo nods and yawns and scratches his head and Sean thinks he looks more like a sleepy ten year old than a man in his fifties. "Yeah – I could do with a shower," Viggo replies. "I don't want to muck up your clean white sheets."

Sean chuckles. "It wouldn't matter if you did, but you do what you want; I'll go and make you a milky drink. You look like you could do with a few calories."

Viggo nods again and starts to peel off his shirt, so Sean turns away, pulling open the door and heading quickly back down to the relative safety of his kitchen where he could think – and remember those heady days in New Zealand when they'd both gone a little crazy and put real life on hold. They'd met up a handful of times since, talked and got drunk together – and once spent the night together in a cheap hotel in Paris – but there had been no future plans, no understanding, no commitment – just an invitation that if Viggo ever needed him, he was there. That had been over four years ago...

\-- [*]-- 

Sean pushes open the door, half expecting to find Viggo asleep already but he isn't; instead he's standing at the window with a towel wrapped round his waist. Viggo doesn't turn or say a word as Sean enters the room to carefully set down a mug of Horlicks on the bedside table. "There's a drink for you here," Sean says softly, but there's no reply. "What up, Viggo?" he asks huskily, his gaze following the line of Viggo's back. _Fuck – you are still the most beautiful man I've ever seen..._

"I'm scared, Sean."

"Scared?" Sean repeats, genuinely surprised by Viggo's response. Viggo wasn't scared of anything. "You? About what?" 

"About everything," Viggo replies, turning from the window and sitting down on the edge of the bed. "I'm scared of getting old – losing people – losing friends – being lonely. I don't know who or where the fuck I am anymore," he whispers, dropping his head into his hands. "I keep thinking about the past and things I didn't do but should have done and things I _did_ do but shouldn't have. I'm not sleeping, I can't eat. When I try to sleep, it's like I'm fading at the edges and it scares the shit out of me, so I force myself to stay awake; destructive I know... I don't know what to do half the time - or what to say..." 

Sean frowns. This wasn't the Viggo he knew, but right now wasn't the time to find out what was going on; maybe tomorrow he could get to the bottom of it. "Well, right now you don't have to do or say anything," Sean replies, moving quickly to squat down in front of Viggo and rest a hand on his knee. "We can talk in the morning, Viggo. Just close your eyes and try to stop thinking."

"Don't you think I've tried that already?" Viggo asks, and Sean can hear the frustration and weariness in his voice. "That's the problem – I _can't_ stop thinking. I have all this shit going round in my head."

"I'm sorry," Sean murmurs, cursing himself for his inane words. "Of course you have. But being exhausted is making it worse." He pauses and moistens his lips with his tongue. "You have to rest or you'll make yourself ill. Is there anything I can do?" 

There's a long moment of silence, then Sean feels Viggo's warm hand curl over his own. "Yeah," Viggo whispers, looking up. "Being with you would help. Stay with me, Sean. Please?"

For a moment, Sean can't do anything but just stare into Viggo's tired, almost haunted face. Fuck – what he'd have given ten years ago to hear those last five words. Ten years ago in New Zealand, when Boromir's scenes were completed, Viggo hadn't asked him to stay... 

"Stay..." Sean repeats. He knows this isn't an invitation to have sex, or an invitation back into Viggo's life – not that he was ever really in it – just a request for help from a friend in need. But even so, suddenly his heart is beating a little faster and his mouth is a little drier too. Sean licks his lips as he prepares to speak, but Viggo gets there first.

"Sorry," Viggo murmurs, withdrawing his hand. "Forget it, Sean – I shouldn't have asked; I haven't the right."

"Bollocks," Sean replies gruffly, squeezing Viggo's knee. "Friends always have the right, so don't be soft. Of course I'll stay. Just let me lock up downstairs and I'll be back." 

"Thanks, Sean," Viggo whispers and Sean can see the glitter of tears on his eyelashes. "It's good to know you still think of me as a friend. I think of you often.That's why I came here."

Sean swallows hard as long suppressed emotion rises inside him. "Yeah? Well, I've always thought of you as a friend - and more. And I'm glad you came. We'll get you sorted out and things'll look better in the morning – you'll see." Levering himself to his feet, Sean nods towards the mug he'd placed on the bedside table. "Now drink your Horlicks, Vig – before it gets cold."

\-- [*]-- 

Deciding what to wear was easy; a pair of comfy old trackpants – clean, but well past their best and categorised as indoor wear only. However, deciding whether to touch and hold or not wasn't so easy, but in the end, he needn't have worried. When he'd quietly slipped under the covers Viggo turned over and looked at him – and after a solitary moment of hesitation, Sean had responded by flicking off the light and gathering Viggo close and holding him like the precious thing he was, staring into the darkness as if daring the world to try and take him away. "I won't let you fade at the edges, Vig," he whispers. "You're here with me and safe – you know that." Sean feels the soft press of Viggo's lips against his neck and instinctively he hugs him closer, kissing his still damp hair.

A little later with Viggo asleep, his breathing slow and even, Sean lets his own eyes close. He didn't know what the future held, but right now just holding this man felt right – it felt good – and in the morning? Well, in the morning hopefully they'd deal with Viggo's demons together.

\-- [*] --

But they never did deal with the demons which had driven Viggo to his door - well, not directly. The next morning Sean hadn't asked Viggo to stay and Viggo hadn't asked to either, but some three weeks later he was still there - and it suited them both. Viggo's clothes hung in Sean's wardrobe, his books were on the nightstand and his boots were in the hall. Sean's kitchen smelled of coffee and exotic food and his bed smelled of Viggo and great sex; suddenly he couldn't imagine his life any other way. They were friends of course, yet they were more than friends – friends and lovers and maybe more. Maybe... Sean knew that sooner or later one of them would have to say _some_ thing about what was going on between them – what it might or might not mean – what their future might or might not hold – but it certainly would not be right now with Viggo dozing in his arms as their spent bodies cooled. Sean didn't want to do or say anything that might break the spell - or shatter his dreams.

Viggo stirs suddenly and lifts his head. "I love you, you know," he murmurs. 

Sean's whole body tenses as he stares into Viggo's sleepy but serious eyes. He doesn't say anything for a moment - _can't_ say anything – but then the words come. "No – I didn't know," he says softly, his heart beating fast.

"I love you, Sean," Viggo repeats. "It was the not telling you that was eating me up. _You_ were the reason I was lonely; _you_ were the past and all the things I didn't do; _you_ were all the things I should have done. _You_ were what was missing."

"I didn't know," Sean whispers, his throat tight as he hugs Viggo closer.

Viggo nods. "I understand. That's why I came over. I had to tell you - and I had to find out how you felt about me."

 _So much for breaking the spell..._ "That's easy - I love you too," Sean growls softly. "I can't remember a time when I didn't actually, but I never thought you felt that way. I never imagined, never dreamed – well, not until these last three weeks..." 

"But you know now, yeah?" Viggo asks, his fingers stroking Sean's cheek and his eyes full of light and promise.

Sean smiles. "Yeah, Vig. I know now."

\-- [END] -- 


End file.
